


An Education Long Delayed

by Huntress77



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Abigail Hobbs Lives, Coming of Age, Fluff, Happy Murder Family, Knifeplay, Multi, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Sex Education, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:52:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6892708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress77/pseuds/Huntress77
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The bloody night at Hannibal's house in Baltimore never happened. Abigail Hobbs is alive and now living happily with Will and Hannibal.</p><p>College lies ahead, but she still has so much to learn...</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Education Long Delayed

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the use of Abigail in my "Brittle Materials" series, although it isn't in the same continuity and doesn't directly relate to anything in that story. If you want to check out "Brittle Materials", you can find it [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5428178/chapters/12542294).
> 
> Also, man, Kacey Rohl's hair has never been short! I couldn't find a single picture of her with short hair for this.

  


Abigail Hobbs had had a good day. A lovely, lazy, enlightening day at the Biblioteca Medicea Laurenziana. It wasn't the best day of her life, but she still stepped off the train from Florence in the highest of spirits. She reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear and, for the millionth time, remembered only when she felt nothing underneath. Her hair, an unevenly layered bob that angled down toward her chin, was partly designed to conceal her semi-earless state. There was a story prepared in case she should be accidentally exposed, of course, but Abigail hadn't had to use it yet.  
  
The legs stretching out from denim shorts were lean, muscular and tan from walking this same trail many times. Feet encased in red designer sneakers were sure as they tripped down switchbacking bluffs that somewhat reminded her of a warmer, more golden version of the Maryland coast. Finally, Abigail crossed a pristine private beach to the new home she shared with Will and Hannibal.  
  
_She had been standing across from Hannibal, chopping tomatoes, when he had taken Will's frantic phone call. She could only hear Hannibal's end of the conversation, but the gist of it was that Will was sorry for something. Something that meant they had to leave that night._  
  
A briny gust forced its way in with her as she let herself in the back door, cheeks chafed pink. She hung her messenger bag on its peg and took a moment to admire the tub of live Chesapeake blue crabs that she assumed had only a few more hours left before becoming a nostalgic meal. In Italy, one rarely had to travel far to find fresh meats, cheeses, fruits and vegetables. When it came to more exotic items like this, though, that was why God  Or Whoever had invented overnight shipping.  
  
The place seemed to be empty. Abigail knew her guardians weren't expecting her back this early and wondered if they'd gone out. Not likely- the kitchen and library lights were on. Her steps slowed to an instinctively cautious crawl as she entered the front hall. Technically, neither Will nor Hannibal were wanted men, and there was no reason to think anyone could know of her own continued existence. Of more concern was their little family's "hobby", sometimes undertaken singly, sometimes together. If the polizia had somehow managed to catch up...  
  
Her throat muscles relaxed, releasing a bottled up lungful, when she heard a thump and a creak upstairs. The sounds weren't loud, but they were by no means furtive either. Instantly full of joy again, she did what looked like a nimble dance up the stairs. Her tutorials in stealthy movement were going well and she now knew every single creaky board in the 200-year-old villa. Maybe she could sneak up on them.  
  
What she saw framed in the doorway of Will's bedroom froze her mid-skulk. She had snuck up on them, that much was clear. Hannibal was lying half on top of Will, both mostly undressed, two sets of hands roaming. _In flagrante,_ as her mother had used to say. It was hard to believe the vignette was real, so perfectly was it posed and framed.  
  
The conflicted mishmash of filial and sexual feelings that both men always aroused in her reared up with such ferocity that Abigail silently fled one more door down, to her own bedroom. She pulled her headphones on and sat on the edge of the bed, eyeballing her red shoes. At last, she kicked them off and laid down, back to the wall separating her from what was going on in the next room.  
  
Abigail was eighteen years old and had had so little opportunity to explore her own desires. Ever since the day her father had tried to kill her, her life had been spent in healing, in hiding or both. Before that, well, she'd never really felt like she fit in with "normal" kids. That wasn't to say she was a virgin. Teenage hormones were too wild to ever be fully tamed. But right now, it felt like she might as well be. Maybe it was time to figure a few things out.  
  
She recalled her psychology lessons in Baltimore, sitting across from Hannibal in his office or curled up next to him on the sofa, always fighting the urge to draw her feet up onto the impeccable furniture. Now her lips voicelessly mouthed two words. _Electra complex_. No. That wasn't quite what she was feeling. After all, they weren't really her fathers, were they?  
  
She sat up, back still to the wall, and let her headphones slide off. They had gotten louder. Each grunt and groan had an alchemical effect on her, transforming her very blood into something simultaneously icy and inflamed. Her hand slipped under her waistband and brushed wiry curls of pubic hair.  
  
Abigail turned toward the sounds of pleasure. She wasn't a little girl anymore. She was never _their_ little girl, even if the relationship was similar at times. Her lips parted as one finger traced the ridge of her swollen labia, moisture already collecting between them. Was this what they had been doing every time she'd left the villa?  
  
Before there was time to lose her nerve, she padded to the lovers' door. Will spotted her over Hannibal's shoulder.  
  
"Abigail!" he yelped and snatched at the blanket, scrambling to cover his tumescent nakedness.  
  
Hannibal's reaction was more measured. He, too, moved to cover his lap, but his eyes stayed thoughtfully on her face. "Are you shocked to see us like this, Abigail?"  
  
She shook her head. This was as long as she could tear her eyes away from the tent in the blanket and they lowered again.  
  
"Is there anything you would like to ask us?"  
  
Will looked between the two with dawning comprehension.  
  
She licked her lips in an unconsciously sexual gesture and said, "I want you to help me." Her voice came out higher than she would like and she tried again. "I want you to help me learn more."  
  
"Poor girl. You're about to leave for college, yet we've neglected your education."  
  
Hannibal nodded to the bed and she took a single step forward. The blanket was still clutched to Will's chest, his expression warring between consternation and intrigue, but Hannibal let his covering slip away far enough to expose a muscular thigh and a glimpse of cock.  
  
A shuddering breath escaped Abigail's body as her palms touched the mattress. She crawled forward, the lace of her tunic falling to trail along the bed beneath. Hannibal took one arm, Will the other, and Abigail was dragged up between them.  
  
She buried her face in a pillow. One pair of hands slid up her back, taking her tunic with them, and unhooked her bra. Another pair caressed her buttocks before moving down her legs. It was like being the filling in a sandwich. As strong arms rolled her over, she decided this was easily her favorite kind of sandwich.  
  
Abigail raised her arms over her head to allow the tunic to slide off, wriggling her hips as her shorts were peeled over them. She moaned at the feel of her bare ass squirming on the sheet.  
  
The sound stretched into a louder, hungrier groan as Hannibal's mouth closed over one small breast and Will's over the other. Lips and tongues worked at the soft mounds of flesh as Will's fingers stroked her hair. She kicked the shorts and panties the rest of the way off, allowing Hannibal unfettered access to the spots she most wanted him to touch.  
  
Her entire body arched off the bed. She knew sex could feel good. She was no child. But shit, she'd never even imagined it could feel _this_ good! Hannibal's thumb massaged her clit gently but firmly, while his middle finger circled her hole. Will pushed her back down to the mattress with a smile against her breast, leaving her to writhe helplessly against the ecstatic onslaught of sensation. _"Oh god"_ echoed in her head like Internet porn.  
  
Will's hand moved from Abigail's hair to her face. As he caressed it, she bit lightly down on his thumb and sparked an idea in her lizard brain. With effort, she closed her throat on the unending moans, opening it again for, "A knife."  
  
Abigail nearly screamed with frustration as they both stopped their ministrations to lift confused, spit-slick faces. "Pardon me?" asked Hannibal.  
  
She cleared her throat and tried again. "Go get a knife. I think it would be fun."  
  
That  was all Hannibal needed to hear. He swiveled off the bed in one panther-like movement and padded from the room, unselfconsciously letting his cock swing with each stride. He probably knew she was watching.  
  
Will took it upon himself to continue her instruction in Hannibal's absence. He leaned warmly into her body and scattered kisses over her mouth, cheeks, neck. Abigail disentangled a hand and touched his dick, tentatively at first. He reached down to offer guidance and, soon enough, her hand was wrapped around its girth, moving confidently along the length of the shaft.  
  
"Good girl," he panted, pushing into her grip. "You're doing so well."  
  
Hannibal returned with one of his stainless steel kitchen knives and slipped back into place on her other side. He rested the immaculately honed tip against her lower lip and dragged it around and around the perimeter of her mouth, only just lightly enough to avoid cutting her. Abigail closed her eyes with a shivery sigh and pressed her tongue against the cold, hard edge. It felt dangerous. It also felt amazing.  
  
As the knife drifted beneath her nostils, she caught the suggestion of a familiar scent off it.  
  
"Rosemary," she muttered. Her eyelids half-parted to see Hannibal smiling approvingly down at her. It occurred to her how freakish all this would seem to anyone else she'd ever known. That was the glue that bound their murderous, kinky family together. They were three freaks who saw beauty in the same unlikely places.  
  
She ran the flat of her tongue down the blade and the flat of her hand down Hannibal's dick. In her eagerness to experiment with this new experience, she traced the ridges of the glans until it was oversensitized and he had to patiently encourage her to move her attention elsewhere. She turned over and took both men's cocks in hand, now fascinated by the way the foreskins stretched and rolled with each stroke.  
  
Abigail tilted her chin back as Hannibal etched a white line down her throat, freely offering up the scar her father had given her. "Be gentle," she reminded him, some part of her still fearing that his predator nature could take over.  
  
He responded by passing the knife to Will, freeing his hand to dip between her legs and pleasure her more intensely. One finger slipped into her sticky wetness and began to massage, opening her up. Will's tongue, meanwhile, ran along the sensitive scar tissue.  
  
As she hooked her legs over the men's hips, she felt a second finger join the first and probe for something. When he found it, she bucked.  
  
Hannibal answered her startled gaze with, "That's your G-spot."  
  
Her voice cracked and failed her as he crooked hs fingers up in a V and stroked firmly down either side of the G-spot. She tried not to squirm too much as Will pricked at the undersides of her breasts, but it was a hopeless battle. Muscles sucking greedily at Hannibal's fingers, trying to pull them ever deeper in, Abigail Hobbs experienced the most intense orgasm of her life.  
  
Staring up at Will with bright red face and watery eyes, she smiled and laughed as he lifted a delicate claret droplet from her breast to Hannibal's mouth. Hannibal leaned over to kiss Will, then promised, "Your next one will be even better."  
  
Her eyes went wide. "I can come more than once?"  
  
He smirked and brushed a hand over her cheek, absorbing its ferocious heat. "You certainly can, my dear."  
  
"Let me take over," commanded Will. He rose to his knees and pulled Abigail into a sitting position.  
  
Gripping her hips, he positioned her over his cock and she slowly lowered herself, gaining confidence as the tightness of her opening was breached. She uttered a blissful moan as Will sank in up to the hilt.  
  
Abigail closed her eyes and jerked erratically up and down on his cock, lost in the sensation of it pushing and kneading against her insides. Will slowed her, coaxing her into a steadier rhythm. He pulled her into a lingering kiss and she felt tufts of Hannibal's hair tickle her cheek, nuzzling down onto Will's shoulder from behind.  
  
It all turned to white noise when Will started using his tongue.  
  
Her senses returned at the _chunk_ of a bedside drawer opening. Hannibal was fishing out a squeeze bottle of what she realized, as it got closer, was lube. She stopped moving. Hannibal was going to fuck Will? Now?  
  
The scent of jasmine wafted into her nostrils as he squirted an ample amount of lube into his palm. Then he was slicking himself up, cupping Will's chin with his other hand and guiding him back into a kiss.  
  
She eased slowly into a rocking motion, watching the men kiss. It was at once strange, fascinating and wildly erotic to see the confident ease with which their lips and tongues tangled and separated.  
  
Will's cock jumped inside her and she knew he had been penetrated. Abigail drove her hips in as Hannibal did the same, and those long, lush eyelashes fluttered together in response. Will, then Hannibal, kissed her, before returning to each other's lips.  
  
Abigail leaned back and lolled her head, brushing her G-spot with each rearward rock of her hips. She wrapped her legs around both men to keep herself from sliding off of thighs made slippery by combined sweat and Hannibal hugged her and Will close in turn. Their movements quickly synchronized, each of Hannibal's thrusts being matched by one of Abigail's.  
  
Each successive neural lightning strike piled atop the others, until she was teetering on the brink. The easy glide of Hannibal's hand down her back pushed her over.  
  
As she plummeted, screaming, into the warm, neon abyss of orgasm, she felt Will jerk and spill inside her. She heard his moans interlace with Hannibal's as Hannibal came a moment later. All three bodies joined in a glistening, writhing knot of limbs.  
  
Abigail fell back onto cool pillows, pushed hair from her eyes and watched Hannibal and Will detach. "You were right," she panted. "The second time was better."  
  
As she sank into a contented sleep, flanked by her mentors, she wanted to ask when her next lesson would be. There was no need to appear too eager, though. Who said she had to leave for college at the start of the next semester? It wasn't like she knew what she wanted to do with her second life, beyond the obvious. There would be plenty of time for exploration and learning of a different kind.

**Author's Note:**

> I was originally going to have Hannibal fetch Garret Jacob Hobbs' knife. That seemed too creepy, given the context in which it was going to be used.


End file.
